


Head Games

by MaJackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Torture, threat of non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaJackles/pseuds/MaJackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets caught by a creature that makes him relive moments from his past he'd rather forget.</p>
<p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

1

 

Dean had his hands on her ass, holding her as he built up a steady rhythm. Lisa's hair brushed across his chest and face as she moved. She flipped it to the side and leaned down for a kiss. He dug his fingers in tighter as he felt his release coming. She pulled back from him and looked at him oddly.

 

“Where is Tanya?”

 

The words came out of Lisa's mouth, but it wasn't Lisa's voice. It caught Dean so off guard that he stopped mid-thrust, gasping. “Who?”

 

Lisa tilted her head to the side. “Tell me who Lisa is.”

 

Dean quickly let go of her and looked around the bedroom. He frowned up at her. “Who are you?”

 

“Maybe a change of venue would help.”

 

There was a flash of light and Dean found himself sitting in a booth at a diner, a cup of coffee before him. There was a woman seated across from him who looked like a classic Greek. She wore a white, flowing, toga-like dress with gold leaf clasps at the shoulders. Her hair was drawn up on top of her head with curly wisps hanging down from it here and there.

 

Dean jerked at the sudden change of surroundings. “Who are you? Where are we? What the hell is going on?”

 

“You can call me Athena. We are right here. We are having a nice talk.”

 

“Athena. THE Athena?” Dean squinted at her.

 

“What, that spoiled bitch? No. I've just always liked the name.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Just what I said. Tell me who Lisa is.”

 

Dean frowned. Why would an apparent Greek God, albeit a lesser one, care who Lisa was? Not wanting to piss off a god, though, he decided a simple answer was best. “She's a girl I met a long time ago at a biker bar. We hit it off, spent the weekend together, and then went our separate ways. Now, where's Sam?”

 

“Tell me more.”

 

Dean clenched his jaw, the tendon at the side twitching. “Where's Sam?”

 

She sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “Off doing whatever it is Sam does. I don't know. Now, tell me more.”

 

“About what?”

 

“About Lisa.”

 

“There's nothing more to tell.” For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she cared so much and, honestly, he wasn't about to bear his soul to her either.

 

“You're lying to me.”

 

Dean sighed. “Listen, it didn't work out. That happens. We moved on.”

 

Athena regarded him for a moment and took a sip from her own coffee cup.

 

“What do you want with me?” Dean was getting frustrated. He wanted answers or to move on from this idle chit chat.

 

“No. No answers for you yet. I want to know the rest about Lisa.”

 

Dean let go of another sigh and turned to look out the window next to them.

 

Athena set her cup down with a loud rattle. “Fine. Change of venue.”

 

Flash of light and a new setting again. This time Dean was in a dark chamber. There was a faint light directly above that allowed him to see a foot or so around himself. His wrists were bound and strung up above his head. He was barefoot and the floor was cold and damp. In fact, other than his jeans, all his clothes were gone.

“Getting kinky, now, Athena.”

 

A meaty fist came out of the dark and connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Dean scanned the area around him and could hear someone breathing nearby. “Athena, what the hell do you want with me? Surely not idle chit chat about past girlfriends.”

 

“I told you. I want Tanya back.”

 

“And I told you I don't kn--” A fist nailed him in the back. Dean grunted and spun around.

 

“But in the meantime, you can tell me more about Lisa.”

 

“There's nothing more to say.” Dean kept looking around trying to see anyone.

 

Athena's voice came out of the dark in front of him. “Why are you lying to me?” She slowly materialized out of the dark.

 

“I'm not lying. There's nothing to talk about! What are you? Freaking Dr. Phil??” Another fist to his mid section.

“Damn it! Fine!” Before he could take a breath to continue he was back in the diner. He looked around, thrown off by the sudden switch.

 

“Continue.”

 

With an exasperated sigh Dean continued. “Sam was going to be going away sort of against his will. He made me promise to settle down. So I found Lisa and we hooked back up. We lived together, her, me, and her kid, for about a year. I got a normal nine to five and lived the apple pie life. When Sam came back I got dragged back into the family business again. Lisa and I tried to make it work with me being on the road. It didn't. We broke it off for good that time.” Dean let out a shaky breath. “Happy now?” He hated thinking about Lisa. One of his biggest screw ups to date in his opinion.

 

“Still holding something back.”

 

“You're full of shit.”

 

“No. I think you are. You're so full of it, you can't see it.” She took another calm, slow sip of her drink. “Tell me, Dean. Tell me that which you hold back from even yourself.”

 

“Screw you.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“I don't want to talk about it!” Dean pounded his fist on the table, making their cups bounce.

 

Athena let out a disappointed sounding sigh, there was a flash of light, and Dean was back to the dark room hanging from his wrists again.

 

Before he could even get his bearings, a fist came out of the dark, hitting him square in the jaw. The blow snapped his head to the side and Dean could taste blood. “Damn it! What do you want?!” Dean couldn't figure this one out. She said she wanted to know where Tanya was, but he couldn't think of any Tanyas. Even so, if she wanted this Tanya so bad, why did she keep harassing him about Lisa?

 

“I simply want you to answer my questions.”

 

Dean spit some blood onto the floor. “Well since I don't know who Tanya is and you keep pestering me about Lisa, I have to assume they are connected in some way?”

 

“No. Not at all.”

 

Dean growled a little under his breath. “Then what are you getting out of all of this?”

 

“Do not presume to think you can understand my purposes here, Dean.”

 

Another punch came out of the dark, but Dean saw it at the last second and tried to turn away. The action caused him to spin and he took the punch painfully on his shoulder.

 

“Tell me the rest about Lisa.”

 

“No! Damn it!”

 

“Oh, but you will. Everyone tells me what I need to hear.”

 

Dean saw a little orange glow appear in the dark. As it got closer, he realized it was a glowing hot poker. The hand holding it had blood smeared on it and he assumed it was the same man who had been using him as a punching bag.

 

“Uh, okay now, Athena. No need to get your toga in a twist. What exactly about Lisa do you want to know that I haven't already told you?” Dean kept his eyes on the glowing tip of the rod in front of him, hoping he could talk his way out of this like he had so many other things before. Therefore, he never saw the incoming fist that rocked his head from the opposite side as before. “Shit.” He spit more blood, this time aiming for his attacker who stuck to the shadows.

 

“Tell me Dean.”

 

The poker moved closer. “Okay, okay!” With a heavy sigh, Dean told her what he hoped she wanted to hear. “I was never good enough for her! She deserved better. I had almost constant nightmares. I spent my days worrying that my past would catch up to me and she and her kid would get caught up in it all. Then I spent my nights drinking. When I did come home, I was often drunk, but she sat me at their dinner table and she loved me in spite of how messed up I was.”

 

The glowing poker moved closer and Dean tried to talk faster, hoping that if the words just tumbled out of his mouth fast enough, he wouldn't have time to think about what he was actually saying.

 

“After Sammy came back, things didn't work out, and we broke it off. I thought we were done but those damn demons--” The poker hit his ribs and the pain was white hot. “Agh! You bitch!” A tear slid down his face, but he knew it wasn't because of any physical pain.

 

“Let that be an object lesson, Dean. I take our little talks very seriously and when I ask a question, I expect a full and honest answer. Now... where were you? Damn demons? Please continue.”

 

Dean clenched his jaw, his breath hissing through his teeth.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Um... demons. They got her and the kid and tried using them as leverage against me. I eventually got them back, but Lisa...” Dean closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. That was a mistake, because behind his eyelids, he could clearly see Lisa lying in that damn hospital bed.

 

Athena cleared her throat. “Lisa got hurt real bad and she wasn't going to make it. I know some people and, well, this one guy healed her up, good as new. He also messed with their minds and they no longer remember who I am. That's for the best.” His voice trailed off.

 

“See? Was that really so hard?” Athena let out a shuddering sigh. “Dean I look forward--”

 

Dean gasped as he woke up. That had to have been the worst dream he's had in forever. He looked around and didn't recognize his surroundings. In fact, he was having trouble remembering how he got here at all. He was lying on a pathetically thin mattress on the floor. He was caged, the dimensions barely big enough for two of him to lie side by side. The bars of the cage stretched up into the dark beyond a bright light. He sat up and got a searing pain in his side for his efforts. He lifted his shirt and glanced down to see what was causing the pain. There on his left side was a cauterized wound. “Shit. No. No way.” He stood up, sucking in a breath at the pain.

Thinking about his dream, he felt his face and mouth. There was a small spot of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. This didn't bode well. Something weird as fuck was going on and he had no clue what it was.


	2. 2

2

 

Since he couldn't remember how he got there, and he couldn't figure out what was going on, he decided to examine his surroundings. As he looked more closely at the bars of his cage, he came to the dismaying realization that the cage didn't have a door. How the hell had they gotten him in here? He started going bar to bar, trying to twist them. He made it around the entire cage and not a one of them would even budge. Maybe the cage lifted? He again went around the entire cage, stopping every now and then to heave up on the bars. Nope. How the hell? He stood back and tried to see up past the light above.

 

“I have brought you first aid.”

 

Dean just about jumped out of his skin. He spun around and there in the cage with him was a giant of a man. Easily as tall as Sam. He was a muscle-bound goon with a shaved head. Two odd things about the man, though. First, the guy was dressed to the nines. Full three piece suit with dark red shirt and black satin tie. Second, his mouth was sewn shut.

 

“Uhhh... How did you just say that?”

 

“With my mind.”

 

Dean then realized he was hearing him speak inside his own head. “Oh, you need to get out of my head right now.”

 

“I am technically not IN your head. I can speak to you in this fashion but that is all. I cannot intrude on your private thoughts.”

 

Dean held a hand to his head. The longer the dude 'talked', the more his head started to hurt. “Okay. Stop talking. That hurts.”

 

The goon held out a hand. In it was a bandage and some sort of antibiotic cream. “For your wound.” Dean hesitantly took a step forward and held out his hand. The goon dropped the items into Dean's hands. “I'm sorry about that. I have to follow orders.”

 

Dean looked up at the guy and saw his eyes flash black. “Shit!” Dean jumped back to the other side of the cage. The demon popped out and was gone. Well, that explained how they got him in here.

 

Dean knelt down on the thin mattress and pulled off his shirt. As he went about addressing his burn, he thought about the demon goon. Athena obviously had him under her control in some way. He wondered if the stitched mouth was part of some sort of spell, keeping him from smoking out, or what. He'd never met a demon before that could speak to him telepathically, though. That was interesting. Maybe he was like Ruby. She had held onto some of her witch crap in the afterlife. Maybe this guy was some sort of telepath in his previous life. Either way, he had said he was sorry for burning him. That was a definite first for demon-kind. Maybe, if Dean could figure a way to break Athena's bond with him, the demon could help get his ass out of here. Wherever 'here' was.

 

Of course, sitting here dressing a wound he received in a dream was another matter all together. What had happened in the dream was real. But not. He was now beginning to wonder if it hadn't been a dream and that maybe they put him to sleep at the end of it all some how. If it was all a dream, then this was some seriously screwed up shit he'd gotten himself into. He was having trouble wrapping his head around it.

 

Finished with the wound, Dean pulled his shirt back on. “Are you hungry?”

 

Dean glanced around but couldn't see too far beyond the cage bars. “Demon goon. Is that you?”

 

The demon stepped out of the shadows. “You may call me Jedidiah. It is the name of my--”

 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Jed it is. I don't want another head ache, thanks.”

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Yeah sure.” As Jed walked away into the dark Dean added “if it'll mean you not creeping around in the shadows watching me...”

 

Dean heard a door quietly close somewhere in the distance and assumed he was alone. He went back to studying the bars. He went to the corner and took a small hop up and grabbed bars on either side. He then wedged a foot against each bar, pushed to hold himself up and then reached higher up the bars with his hands. After getting a grip he pulled himself higher. He continued in that fashion until he got up to the light, about ten feet off the ground. He tried to see into the dark above the light, but the bars just disappeared into shadow. How tall was this thing?

 

He heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat down below. He slowly slid down a bit and then dropped to the floor. Athena was standing outside the bars watching him. She wasn't wearing the toga of his dream, but rather a pant suit. “Athena I assume?”

 

She nodded her head but said nothing. Dean looked at her more closely. Damn, if she weren't a greek god, he wouldn't mind taking her for a test drive. Sam would have had some snarky response to that if he were here. Dean cleared his throat. “There's nothing more to tell about Lisa, so please don't ask.” Dean crossed his arms across his chest, joining her in her staring.

 

She walked around the perimeter of the cage, never taking her eyes off him. He slowly turned in a circle, keeping his eyes on her.

 

“How are you feeling?” Dean winced at the pain. Another telepathic speaker. Just what he needed. Her's was much stronger, though, and felt like someone jabbing an ice pic into his brain.

 

“Like I've been mind fucked, thank you very much.”

 

She finally broke eye contact and looked down at the mattress. “Are you comfortable?”

 

Wincing again at the sharp pain in his temple, Dean huffed out a chuckle. “If you call sleeping on a concrete floor comfy, then sure. I have to take a leak so bad I can taste it. I smell like I haven't showered in days and who knows? Maybe I haven't. So, yeah, this is the Hilton, baby.”

 

She regarded him again with a pouty mouth. She was impossible to read. He wasn't sure if she was upset that he wasn't comfortable or pissed at his snark. Either way, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows. Dean sighed and seriously contemplated pissing through the bars into the unknown beyond. Instead he lay down on the rug they called a mattress and lay staring at nothing, his thoughts turning to Lisa. Damn Athena.

 

Some time later Jed popped back into the cage, startling the shit out of him. “Damn it, man! They need to get you a bell or something.”

 

Jed reached down and grabbed Dean's ankle and they popped out and back. Jed let go and vanished. Dean sat up and looked around. Gone were the bars of the cage and they were replaced with a bedroom of sorts. To his left was a normal looking double bed and next to it an armchair. There was a small table in front of it with a magazine or something lying on it. To his right was a stand up shower stall, sink, and toilet. “Thank god.”

 

Dean got up off the floor and made his way to the toilet. As he took care of business, his eyes wandered along the sink. On the corner of the counter lay a pile of clothes. From what he could tell, it was a complete set, with socks on top. He looked into the glass shower stall and noticed soap and a bottle of some sort. Finally, he could wash the stink off himself. Flushing the toilet, he glanced around looking for cameras, but couldn't find any obvious signs. That didn't mean he wasn't being watched, but he didn't care. Let them enjoy the show.

 

The shower ruined his wound dressing and afterward he opened the small cupboard below the sink. His efforts were rewarded with a pile of bandages and more of the antibiotic ointment. He had to chuckle at the clothes left for him because they were an exact match to what he had already been wearing, right down to the hole that had started in the left knee of his jeans. Once he was set, he decided to explore the room a bit more.

 

There was a window between the shower and the bed, but when he pulled back the curtains, he was met with more wall. Cute. The only vents he could find were about the size of his fist and useless for any sort of escape plan. There was a door opposite the window and Dean was surprised to find it unlocked. He slowly cracked it open only to find more wall. “You guys are hilarious!” he called out to the air. He sat briefly on the bed. It was more comfortable than most motel beds he had slept on. Not bad.

 

Finding nothing of use or interest in the room, he finally sat down in the chair and picked up the magazine. On the front cover was a large color photo of flames bursting out the upstairs window of a house. The headline read: “Woman burns to death, pinned to the ceiling. Authorities are stumped.”

 

The tendons on Dean's jaw flexed with sudden anger. “Athena, you son of a bitch!” He should be sitting here trying to figure out who Tanya is instead of looking at this garbage. If he could call Sam, he bet he would know.

His eyes trailed back down to the magazine in his hands, unable to resist. Dean noticed the actual article was just the word 'blah' repeated over and over. Just before he turned the page to see what new mind-fuck Athena had for him, some words in bold print caught his eye. Down near the end of the article were the words 'She started it all'.

 

“Oh, hell no, you bitch. You're not leading me down that road.” He flipped the page in disgust to find a photo of his father. He was young in the picture. Maybe ten or more years ago. He stood, duffel bag in hand, at a motel room door. His hand was on the knob, getting ready to leave. It was a scene Dean was all too familiar with over his lifetime. The headline on this page read: 'Widowed Father Seeks Revenge; Drags Young Sons Down With Him'. No bold print message on this page. On the other page was another photo. This one looking out a window at dad in the Impala, pulling away. There was a small heading in the middle of the page: 'The harmful psychological effects on the sons would be profound'.

 

The last page of this article had one last photo of Dad teaching Sammy how to hold a gun. Sam couldn't have been older than eight or ten. The caption below the photo read: 'Young children raised as soldiers'.

 

Dean was seething with anger. Dad may not have always made the best choices or done everything right, but damn it, he did the best he could. How dare Athena throw accusations around when she had no idea about his family or their circumstances! Dean rolled the magazine into a tube and stood up. He started pacing around the small room. He so badly wanted to punch somebody.

 

He tossed the magazine down on the table in a huff and almost walked away before he noticed one last article on the back cover. He slowly picked it back up. The photo was Sam sitting on a ratty looking couch, happily petting a dog. It was a scene from Sam's Heaven. The headline was: 'Brother Betrays Brother' and the caption below the photo read: 'Brother loves dog more than his own family'.

 

Dean let out a growl of rage and tore the magazine to shreds. He gathered up all the pieces and tossed them in the toilet, flushing the whole mess down. He grinned with satisfaction but it was short lived. The anger was just rolling off of him.

 

He turned, running his hands through his hair. He felt like a caged animal. He started pacing again, his mind continually running through the photos and headlines, building his anger even more. When he turned back, on one of his laps around the room, there was a tray of food on the small table. Jed must have popped in and out behind his back, leaving it for him. Dean stalked over to it and didn't even hesitate. He picked up the tray, screamed his rage at the room, and hurled it against the door that led to nowhere.

 

“Screw you, bitch! I'm done playing your games! You hear me? I don't know who Tanya is, so you may as well let me go, or kill me, or whatever! I'm done!” As punctuation to his tirade, he kicked the small table. It sailed across the small room and slammed into the shower stall, putting a long crack in the glass.

 

Dean walked off a bit more anger and then flopped onto the bed. He had no idea what time of day it even was. He longed for a tv. He lay staring at the ceiling and eventually dozed off.


	3. 3

3

 

Dean's dreams were all over the place. Flipping from one scene to another. They all featured his father. He dreamed of him teaching them how to shoot. There was that time dad caught him messing with one of the guns. Dad had gone off to the grocery store to get some food. They were squatting in some old house outside of town. He got into Dad's duffel bag and pulled out the shotgun. He had sawed off the end himself, under Dad's watchful eye. He was out behind the house shooting salt rounds at the targets they had been aiming at the night before. He was so sure he'd hear the car pull in that he was shocked when he felt the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder.

 

“What do you think you're doing, Dean?”

 

“Um, just practicing. So I can be as good as you.”

 

“Give me the gun.” He held out his hand. Dean bowed his head and placed the gun in his father's hand. “I'm disappointed in you son. You know the rules.”

 

“I know. No shooting unless you or Uncle Bobby is there with us.”

 

“Then why did you do this?”

 

“I'm twelve now! I know everything about that gun there is to know! You taught me!”

 

“You are still a child. Even then, accidents happen. Who would have helped you out if something had happened and I wasn't here? Sam?” John looked around. “Where is your brother, Dean?”

 

“In the tree.” Dean pointed to a large tree at the back corner of the yard. He looked up at his father and saw that little tendon twitching in his jaw. Never a good sign.

 

“Take this inside and I want you to clean it thoroughly. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“When you're done, I want you to clean every other weapon we have.”

 

“Every one?! But that'll take--”

 

“Are you questioning me, son?”

 

Dean looked down at this sneakers. “No sir.”

 

“Then go.”

 

The dream flipped to a time, one of many, that Dad had caught him after he had snuck out. He had given him shit about leaving Sam alone. That it was his job to look after his little brother when he wasn't around.

 

It then flipped to a time he had taken the Impala out for a spin. It was shortly after he had gotten his license. He really caught shit for that one. Then his dreams flipped to the time that shtriga had almost gotten Sammy in his bed. That was probably the worst one.

 

Dean had done nothing his entire life but try to make his father proud of him. Replaying all the countless times he had let him down wasn't encouraging. He roused a bit out of his dreams, enough to realize he was too warm.

He turned on his side to throw off the blanket and fell off the couch. He woke up confused. The couch he had been lying on sat across from two arm chairs. Athena and Jed occupied them at the moment. Jed had his eyes on him, where Athena was staring at the flickering flames in a fireplace.

 

Dean dragged himself off the floor and back to the couch. “Can't a guy get any sleep around here?” Athena remained focused on the fire. Dean nodded at Jed. “Jed. Good to see you.” Jed nodded back in acknowledgment.

 

“Tell me about your father.” Athena finally spoke.

 

“Oh, hell no. No. I'm not doing this! Why don't you give me more info on this Tanya you're looking for, that you seem to think I know something about. Or let me go and I'll see what I can dig up for you.”

 

Athena chuckled. “Sam is doing the research. Was your father abusive?”

 

Dean bit back the angry retort that danced on the tip of his tongue. Not going to play this game! “What are you getting out of this? Seriously. Why keep asking about past girlfriends or my father, who's been gone for four years now?”

 

Athena studied him for a moment. “Let me give you an honest answer so that you can see how easy it is to just talk.” She thought for a moment. “Three reasons, I guess. First, because I can. I have the ability to enter into the unconscious mind. So why not play around while I'm there?” Dean shook his head at the audacity of it all.

 

“Second. It's entertaining.” Dean rolled his eyes at that. “Yes, Dean? You have something to add?”

 

“Yeah. Why do you god-types think mortals are just playthings for you, huh?”

 

This time Athena rolled her eyes. “Please refer back to reason number one.” Dean clenched his jaw and glared at her. “As I was saying. Entertaining. Mortal man is a singular concept, but you all vary so greatly from one another! It's fascinating! It's fun to see how far you can go before you break. It's different every time.” She was warming up to her subject now. “For example, I had a gentleman visit just last week. He didn't want to talk either, but no sooner had we gotten him strung up by his wrists and he couldn't stop talking. He gave me his whole life story! Every sordid detail! But you! You took it all the way to the hot poker and beyond! Faced now with another simple conversation, and you're still belligerent! Not only does that show me that it'll take quite a bit to break you, but that it'll be quite the ride as well!”

 

“Yeah? Well, I'm not some freaking experiment! Alright?!”

 

“See??” She actually clapped her hands together excitedly.

 

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and shook his head. “I'm no stranger to physical pain, you know.”

 

“Ahh, but you are fairly new to emotional trauma.”

 

“The hell I am!”

 

“You misunderstand. Yes, you've experienced more physical pain and emotional trauma than pretty much anyone would ever experience in an entire lifetime. But, you take the emotional half and stuff it down and refuse to deal with it. That makes you a unique and special find, Mr. Winchester. I can't wait to get at you!”

 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't win with her. “So, what's the third reason?” He was sure he didn't really want to hear it.

 

“Three. Because when I'm in your heads, all those emotions give me a buzz.”

 

“A buzz. Like an alcohol buzz?”

 

“Alcohol. Drugs. Sure. And with your repressed emotions, you're like high-end crack.”

 

“Awesome. So you're a spoiled junkie.” Athena didn't respond and when Dean looked at her, she was glaring at him. Nice to know he could ruffle her feathers. Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. “You know I could just get really pissed off right now for ya. Spare all the middle ground.”

 

“You don't understand. Fresh emotions are flat. But the emotions that come from memory? They are something special. Take the grape, for example. You squeeze some grapes, what do you get?”

 

Dean waited until he realized she actually expected him to answer. “Juice.”

 

“Yes, you squeeze grapes you get grape juice. But!... You let the juice sit around for awhile, let it stew and marinate and it becomes something else! Something richer, purer, better!”

 

“Uh huh.” Crazy bitch.

 

“Did daddy hit you?” Dean just returned her glare. “Dean?”

 

Dean got up and walked into the dark behind the couch. He didn't go far, as he couldn't see squat, but far enough to be hidden from her view.

 

“Dean? Did father dearest hit you?”

 

Dean turned back toward the glow of the fireplace. “Not answering! Not gonna feed your sick habit!”

 

“Dean, you can't hide from your emotions and you certainly can't hide from me.” Even though he knew he was hidden in shadow, it looked like Athena was looking right at him. He turned away, again, trying to stem his anger.

 

“Jed.” As soon as the word left her mouth, Dean thought he felt a shift in the air behind him. He turned and dropped into a fighting stance. Or, at least, that was the plan. He didn't get that far. As soon as he turned around, Jed had him by the throat.

 

“Jed, don't do this. Fight her.” Dean wheezed out. Jed's grip was like a vice. He turned and started walking Dean backwards toward Athena.

 

“I am sorry, Dean Winchester.” Dean winced at the words in his head. He was thrust down into Jed's now empty armchair.

 

“Answer the question, Dean.”

 

“No, damn it! No! He never laid a hand on us! Now enough! Just... pop me back to my room. I'm not playing anymore.”

 

Athena laughed. It was creepy as hell and sent chills down Dean's spine. The bitch was batshit crazy. “What makes you think you ever left your room?”

 

Dean looked around confused. “I woke up on the couch...”

 

“I can weave your dreams into a many-layered world within your head. You could wake up a dozen times in your dreams and still be sleeping.” She let out another creepy laugh. “You probably thought you were awake when you laid down on your bed, earlier, to go to sleep!”

 

Dean's frown grew deeper. How was he going to beat this if he couldn't even figure out when he was awake or not? He looked back up at Athena and she winked at him. There was a flash and Dean was standing in an alleyway. His phone buzzed in his pocket and when he pulled it out, there was a text from his dad: 'Where the hell are you?'.

 

Flash

 

His father stood, towering over him. “How many times do I have to tell you, Dean?” He could feel the shame rolling over him.

 

Flash

 

“Where's Sam? You were supposed to be watching him!”

 

Flash

 

His father's voice behind him. “Dean! Back away! What have I told you?”

 

Flash

 

Dean was quietly sneaking back into the motel room only to find his father, returned a day early, waiting for him. “Where he hell have you been? You can't leave your seven year old brother here alone like this!”

 

The guilt and shame grew with each passing scene. They played like a blooper reel of his life except it was anything but funny.

 

He found himself suddenly back in the armchair by the fireplace. He was panting like he'd been running a marathon.

 

“Oh my. You were a bad boy weren't you?”

 

“Screw you! I was the good son! Sammy was the one that took off!”

 

“Oh? What's this?”

 

Dean dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his forehead, and mumbled a 'shit'. “It's nothing.”

 

“Hmm. We'll visit your relationship with your brother later, once we've thoroughly dealt with all your daddy issues.”

 

Dean lost it. He growled with rage and launched himself at her. He distinctly remembered her smiling at him just before yet another flash of light.

 

Dean was on his knees and his head was being forced under water. He fought and struggled, but his hands were bound behind his back. When he was finally let up, he spit out water, coughed, and gasped for air.

 

“By the gods, you are thrilling, Dean!”

 

Dean looked up at Athena, who's eyes fluttered back into her head in ecstasy. “Fuck you, bitch.”


	4. 4

4

 

“Tell me all about your daddy issues, Dean.”

 

He didn't look at her. He knelt, head bowed over the tub of water, watching drips from his hair make ripples. “There really isn't anything to tell.” Dean suddenly felt so very tired. Tired physically. Tired of the constant questions. Tired of the probing into things he thought he'd never have to think about again. “Parenting doesn't come with an instruction manual, last I checked. Dad had his faults and us boys had ours. He did the best he could considering some pretty extreme circumstances. All families have their issues.”

 

“Hmm. That's more out of you all at once than I've gotten in a while. It wasn't so hard, was it?” He only sighed tiredly in response. “Well, we've already looked at your faults: your obvious issues with authority and how you often shirk your responsibilities.”

 

“Is this going somewhere?” He cut her off. “Because I already know I'm pretty screwed up and I'm okay with it.”

 

“Okay then. Let's move back to your father. There are definitely issues there. I can feel it ooze through the shadows of your mind every time I mention him. Just let it out, Dean. It's very cathartic.”

 

Dean opened his mouth, about to answer. His mind warred with itself. He just wanted to say it all. All the crap. Just to end this. He was so tired. Oddly enough, though, to talk about it, seemed a betrayal of his father. Now how messed up was that? He was raised to be strong, to be the soldier. Soldiers kept fighting until the end. They didn't give up! His mouth continued to work like he was trying to form words that wouldn't come.

 

“Fine. Let's take another trip down memory lane, shall we?”

 

“No, wait!” Dean looked up at her but instead was transported to that damned hotel room when Sammy learned the truth about Dad. That damn little Christmas tree and those idiotic presents that Dean had stolen.

 

Even though it had turned out to be a great bonding moment for him and Sam, it still sucked. Before Sam had even really gotten into the life, that was the point he started wanting out of it, in Dean's opinion at any rate.

 

Flash

 

“Look, Dean! I lost my first tooth!”

 

“Awesome Sammy! Put it under your pillow and maybe the Tooth Fairy will leave you something.”

 

“I wish Dad were here to see!” Sam ran over to his pillow to stuff the tooth beneath it. Dean dug in his pockets for any loose change. Fifty-three cents. Fantastic.

 

Fast forward a few days later. Dad was back from his hunt and looking tired. Dean took his bag of supplies from him and got him a drink. Sam rushed him the moment he came out of the bathroom and saw him.

 

“Daddy! Look! I lost my first tooth!”

 

Dad had chuckled and sat down in a chair, pulling Sammy down into his lap. “Let me see, now. Hold still.”

 

“The Tooth Fairy brought me fifty cents, too!”

 

“Really? Is that all?”

 

Fast forward to later that night.

 

“Dean why are you filling his head with that Tooth Fairy nonsense? There are more important things to believe in and be worried about than a tooth fairy.”

 

“Maybe I just want him to have something I never got, Dad!”

 

“Dean you know how it is. This is--”

 

Flash

 

Back at the tub of water. Dean's head forced below again. He tried not to struggle. To remain calm. But the pull of self preservation was strong and over-rode any other thoughts. When his chest started getting too tight to bear, he started struggling. Jed finally let him up.

 

“Dean, your father was a real winner, wasn't he? Not there for Christmas, the first lost tooth. Hades! He didn't even want your brother to believe in the Tooth Fairy! The man was a monster!”

 

“Shut up! You don't know anything about my father!”

 

Flash

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah kiddo.”

 

“Tell me the story of the Easter Bunny.”

 

“The story of the Easter Bunny? What are you talking about?”

 

“I heard some kids talking at school about Easter Bunnies bringing them lots of candy and stuff.”

 

Dean sighed and ran his hand down his face. Where was Dad? He should be the one taking these kinds of questions, not him! “Umm. The Easter Bunny is make believe, Sam. Parents just buy that stuff for their kids.”

 

“Then why have the kids believe it was a rabbit?”

 

“No idea, man.”

 

“How come Dad never buys us candy for Easter?”

 

Dean let out a bark of laughter. “When is he ever around to do that shit, Sammy? Anyways... any money we have goes towards lodging, food, gas for the car, and other supplies for Dad's business.”

 

Sam looked dejectedly at the floor and then wandered off to the tv. Damn it, Dad!

Flash

 

Head back in the tub of water. Struggling for air, for freedom. Finally released. This time Dean drops to his side on the floor. He feels exhausted.

 

“Dean, let's face it. Your father was the poster boy for absentee fathers everywhere.”

 

Dean just coughed up water and gasped lungs full of air.

 

“How did that make you feel?”

 

Dean bit his cheek until he tasted blood. He needed to be strong and fight this sick bitch.

 

Athena hummed with excitement. “You may not be talking, yet, but I can feel the turmoil in your mind! It's like foreplay! You are a tease, aren't you?”

 

Jed reached down and grabbed him by the arms, hauling him back to his knees.

 

“No more. Please just let me sleep, damn you.”

 

Jed grabbed him by the hair and forced his head under the water. Dean struggled in vain.

 

Flash

 

“Dean, I'm hungry. What is there to eat?”

 

Dean looked up from the magazine he was flipping through. Sam was sitting on the floor playing with some toy plane that Dad had brought back for him on his last hunt. He looked up at Dean with huge puppy dog eyes. “I'm really hungry.”

 

“Oh all right. Lemme see what there is.” Dean tossed his magazine on the little couch, went over to the kitchenette, and started searching through the cabinets.

 

Dean couldn't place this particular memory, but it was a scene repeated multiple times throughout his life. Hungry bellies, no money left, and Dad not back from his hunt yet. Dean had skipped more than his fair share of meals so that Sam could have whatever was left.

 

“All I got is the heel from the bread.” Little Sammy made a face. “Yeah, I thought so.” Dean stuffed the piece of bread in his mouth and talked around it. “I'll go rustle up something for ya. You stay here and don't open the door for anyone but me or dad. Got it?” Sam nodded his head. Dean headed out somewhere to take a five finger discount.

 

Flash

 

Dean was back before the tub. “First, your father wasn't there for holidays or major milestones. But now? He doesn't even provide his sons enough food to get by? Forcing his eldest to resort to stealing. He was a real winner.”

 

Dean clenched his jaw in anger, both at Athena and his father. Seeing all these things playing out before his eyes made it all fresh and new. He hadn't thought of some of this shit in years. He thought he was over it, but... this was like having a bandage ripped from your skin and re-opening an old, festering wound. “I was never really his son.” He said quietly to himself.

 

“What was that Dean?”

 

He shook his head. No. It didn't matter how tired he was. He wasn't going to air his dirty laundry for her or anyone else. They stared at each other for an eternity. A showdown of wills. She eventually growled and nodded at Jed. Dean's head went under again.

 

“Dean? ...Dean!”

 

As Dean struggled for air, he thought he heard Sam's voice. He fought harder against the hands holding his head in the water. There was a sharp cracking sound and a stinging pain on his cheek. He opened his eyes and gasped for air.

 

“Dean, thank god!”

 

He looked around in confusion. He was back in the bed in the motel-styled cell. Sam was standing over him looking very concerned.

 

“I didn't think you were ever going to wake up, man!”

 

“How did you get in here?” Dean sat up and held his head. It felt like a bomb had gone off in his skull.

 

“I busted through the wall when I couldn't find any other way in.” Sam turned and gestured behind him. Dean looked past him to see a large hole in the wall next to the door that led nowhere. There was a pile of debris below it and a crowbar leaning against the wall nearby.

 

“You said I was sleeping?” Dean felt exhausted and had zero energy. It was taking almost everything he had to sit up as he was. It felt as if he hadn't slept in several days.

 

“Yeah man. You were out. Had your face stuffed into the pillow. For a minute, there, I didn't think you were even breathing. I've been trying to wake you up for over ten minutes.”

 

Dean looked around, suddenly nervous. “Did you take care of --”

 

“The Skoti? Yeah, we ganked her.”

 

“The what? We?”

 

“Bobby and I. He's waiting out in the car. I'll tell you all about it later. Let's get you out of here before anyone else shows up.”

 

“Yeah. Good idea.”

 

Dean went to stand and almost fell right over. Sam quickly wrapped an arm around him, holding him up. “How long have I been missing?”

 

“About four days, give or take a few hours.” They crawled through the hole Sam had made and out into a maze of aisles in a large warehouse.

 

“Damn. No wonder I'm so tired … and starving.”

 

“Come on. This way.” Sam started them down an aisle to the right. Dean kept up as best he could but felt like Sam was more or less dragging his dead weight. He had never wanted to curl up and go to sleep as bad as he did right then.

 

They stumbled through a couple turns and ended up in a makeshift hall of offices. The world suddenly dipped onto it's side and Dean fell to his hands and knees. When everything stopped spinning, Dean apologized. “Sorry Sammy.” He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder at Sam.

 

“I'm sorry Dean.” Jed stood about six feet away and he held Sam by the neck and head. He could do some serious damage if he wanted to.

 

Dean got up onto his knees and raised his hands in surrender. “Don't do it, Jed. Fight it.” Sam frowned at Dean. He couldn't hear Jed's end of the conversation.

 

“There is nothing to fight. I must obey.”

 

“She's gone, Jed.” Dean put a hand to his head. It pounded with every word Jed put in there.

 

“Tell us about your father, Dean.”

 

“Athena is gone, damn it! We don't have to do this anymore!”

 

Jed wrapped his arm across Sammy's shoulders and grabbed his chin in his other hand. He lifted Sam's chin up and away a bit, causing Sam to grunt and raise up on his tip toes. “Tell us!”

 

“Look at me, Jed! I'm on my knees begging here! Please don't do this!”

 

Jed pulled Sam's chin all the way to the side, as far as his head would turn. One good yank and he would snap Sam's neck. “Tell!”

 

“Tell?!?! You want my whole fucked up past???” Dean was yelling now. He was desperate to save Sam. “Fine! I was never a son to my father! Not really! I was an employee! I fed his son. I looked after his son. I attempted to keep his son safe all these years and often failed miserably at it all! He always favored Sam! Sam got the gifts from long trips. Sam got the hugs and the attention! I got the chores. Go get food, clean the weapons, gas up the car! When Sam decided he wanted to go to college it tore our family apart! Not because he was getting out, damn him, but because Dad didn't think he would be able to protect him anymore. Hell I could disappear on a three day bender and he didn't care. At least not any more than it took to rip me a new one when I got back! I spent my entire life trying to make him proud of me and he only ever looked for Sam whenever he got back from a hunt. Is Sam okay? Where's Sam? No hey Dean. How are you doing, Dean? Good job, Dean.”

 

Dean stopped to breathe. He was once again sucking air in like he was running a marathon. Sam refused to look at him. As long as Dean could get him out the other side of this alive? Then fine. Let him be pissed at him.

 

“Keep going.” Another small yank on Sam's chin.

 

“The man was obsessed with finding the thing that killed mom and he dragged us down with him. I never had a normal life and I never will! He stole my life from me! Sure, I tell myself I enjoy what I'm doing, but seriously? The man created a monster equal to those we spent our lives hunting. I'm so twisted and fucked up, I'm surprised my own brother even wants anything to do with me!”

 

By the time he was done, he was back on his hands and knees. His head hung down and he stared at the floor, unable to look at his own brother. He wouldn't be able to bear the hurt and accusation in his brother's eyes.

 

When Jed was slow to respond, Dean finally lifted his head up. He was on the floor, back in his room. The wall in one piece and no sign of Sam.


	5. 5

5

 

He crawled over to the wall and put his hands up to where the hole had been. He slid them across the surface, trying to feel where it had been patched up.

 

“Sam was not here.”

 

Dean put the heel of his hand to his temple. “Jed, I swear if you hurt him...”

 

“He was never here to hurt, Dean.”

 

Dean finally fell to his butt and turned to look at Jed. “He was never here.” Jed shook his head no. “Another of Athena's mind games. Damn it! Am I awake for real now?”

 

Jed made no move. “Are you hungry?”

 

Dean sighed. He would be getting no answers out of Jed, that much was obvious. “Yeah, I could totally eat. I'd like a big, thick, juicy steak, a baked potato with sour cream and butter, and a hunk of homemade bread. And coffee... lots and lots of coffee. Like a huge pitcher of coffee.” If she attacked him in his sleep he would do what he could to stay awake. Assuming, that is, that he was actually awake. Jed popped out, presumably to fulfill his order.

 

Dean finally pulled himself to his feet. He wandered over to the sink and drank some water from the faucet. He splashed some cold water in his face, trying to wake himself up some more. His eyes were rolling in his head, he was so tired. He started pacing around the room, fearing that if he sat still for even a moment, he would drop off to sleep.

 

“Your food.” Dean turned and saw Jed setting a tray on the small table that was no longer trashed. That made him take a quick look at the shower. The crack was gone. When he turned back to Jed, he had vanished.

 

He walked over to see what he was getting for lunch. Dinner? Midnight snack? Hell, he had no idea what time of day it even was. Oh, awesome. Peanut butter and jelly with a bottle of water. He let out a sigh and grabbed the sandwich. “Lousy service in this place! I will NOT be recommending this establishment to any of my friends!” He yelled out. He jammed the sandwich in his mouth, eating it all in about two bites. He then grabbed the water and resumed his pacing about the room.

 

On one of his thousand trips past the little table, Dean noticed a new magazine and he stopped short. Had it been there the whole time? He leaned down and picked it up. It was more of the same shit as before. The cover had a picture of Sam and Jess. They were smiling and happy. No! Dean wasn't going to do this again. He took the magazine and flung it across the room. Its spine made a satisfying crack as it hit the wall and fell back behind the toilet.

 

Dean went to check his watch, forgetting he hadn't had it since all this started. He felt as if he'd been pacing for hours, trying to stay awake. He had filled and refilled the water bottle at the sink a dozen times. He stopped over by the fake window and leaned against the wall. He desperately wanted to crawl into that bed and go to sleep.

 

“Where's Tanya? I want her back. You took her from me and I deserve payment or her return.”

 

Dean glanced around but didn't see the bitch. “I still don't know who Tanya is!” He bit his bottom lip in thought. They had taken her from Athena, in some way. Who the hell was Tanya! He only hoped Sam was somewhere figuring this all out. He waited, but Athena never said anything more.

 

He started pacing again, but after a while realized that he kept finding himself leaning against the wall, or the bed, or the sink, and couldn't remember having stopped. His exhaustion was winning out. He glanced at the shower. That's a thought. If he took a wicked cold shower, that was sure to wake him up. Right? He went over, stripped down, and stepped in. He took a breath, squeezed his eyes shut and turned on the cold water. It hit him like a slap in the face. “Holy HELL! That's cold!” He braced his arms against the wall and let the frigid water pour down over him. The temperature of the water actually hurt and he continued to move around in the small stall so that it didn't pour down on the same spot for too long.

 

He didn't remain in there for long. Who could? He felt very much much awake now, though. He turned off the spray and opened the door a crack to retrieve the towel he had left hanging nearby. The towel was gone. Damn it. He could have noticed that before he got in! He opened the door all the way, meaning to just grab his cloths and put them on a wet body, but they were gone too. “Oh what the hell?” He quickly glanced around the room, but there was no sign of Jed or Athena. There was also no sign of any clothes or towels either. “Shit.” He quickly walked over to the bed and started to pull the sheet off to wrap around himself.

 

“Why would you cover such a beautiful piece of art?”

 

Dean finished wrapping the sheet around his waist and turned. Athena was leaning against the door, a predatory grin on her face.

 

“I'm not a perv. I'm freezing. Where are my clothes?”

 

Athena's eyes traveled down from his face and roamed around his chest. Her grin grew wider. “So, tell me. In your line of work you must save a lot of people from some pretty horrible fates, yes?”

 

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Clothes?”

 

“You must feel pretty good about all the good you do. Saving people... hunting things...”

 

“Stop! Right there. Clothes, Athena!”

 

“Hmm. I don't think so.”

 

Flash

 

Dean was coming up out of the water holding the boy that had been pulled into the lake.

 

Flash

 

He, Sam, and Missouri were smiling and saying their goodbyes to the family that now lived in his childhood home.

 

Flash

 

They are pulling Jo from her makeshift prison in the sewers and then filling the sewers with cement.

 

Flash

 

Dean is helping Ben and several children escape while Sam torches their captor.

 

Flash

 

Dean finds himself handcuffed to the headboard of the bed and the sheet he had had around himself is gone. Athena is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. “Enjoying the view?”

 

“Oh yes. Very much. Did you like your trip down memory lane?”

 

“Good times.” He answers sarcastically. Her eyes roam all over his body and he feels like a piece of meat.

 

“Did you know, that when I have sex within someone's dreams, that not only do I get my pleasure, but I experience it from the dreamer's point of view too? It's twice as intoxicating.”

 

“Fascinating. What do you want me to talk about this time? How great I feel saving people? I'll admit I don't feel as great as you might expect.”

 

“Really? Do tell.” She started running her fingers across his chest and abs, making him jump.

 

This was easy for him to talk about. She wanted to know about saving people? Piece of cake. The sooner he spit this out, the sooner she'd stop looking at him like the Tuesday special at the local diner. “Well, the cases we work on...we don't even catch wind of them until something bad happens. That usually means someone has already died. Any hunt usually is bittersweet in that regard.”

 

“Hmm.” She was paying little to no attention to a thing he said. Her fingers strayed lower, running down his thigh and circling his knee before heading back up.

 

Dean loudly cleared his throat and tried to scoot away from her on the bed. “And, to be honest, as good as you feel at the end of a successful hunt, there's always that knowledge that most people have no idea we had been there and saved their asses. There's no thanks for a job well done.”

 

She stood up started slipping her dress off. “What about the ones you didn't save?”

 

“Umm.” She stood before him naked and he quickly looked at the wall beside him. She may have the hottest body he'd seen in a very long time, but she was still a monster damn it!

 

“Yes, Dean. The ones you didn't save.” She got up on the bed and straddled him at his belly.

 

“Ahh.” He sucked in a startled breath. “Please stop.”

 

He looked up at her and she was still grinning that evil grin of someone up to no good. “Tell me about the ones you let die.” She reached behind her and fondled his balls making him jump again.

 

Flash

 

Layla's name has been called to go forward and receive healing. Dean struggles internally. He knows she has been waiting a long time for her chance at healing a malignant brain tumor. He also knows that an innocent person will die in her place and he can't let that happen either. “FIRE!”

 

Flash

 

All that's left of the Roadhouse is a burned pile of rubble. Dean and Bobby scour the remains. The evidence is ample that Ash was caught in the fire.

 

Flash

 

“Please stop.” The images wreak havoc with his brain and Athena's ministrations are causing a completely opposite reaction with his body. The two sensations war within.

 

“Please stop the memories? Or this?” She runs her fingers ever so lightly up his cock and leans down and licks his chest. “Because your body is telling me not to stop.”

 

“How my body reacts is involuntary. I can't control it any more than a woman who is prone to blushing can stop that. I don't want this.”

 

Flash

 

Pamela said she didn't want to help us and we begged her to do so. Now she lies dying on the bed before me, cursing my name.

 

Flash

 

Jo lies in her mother's arms. She's barely holding on. This is all his fault. Dean started all this. He leans down and they say their goodbyes. The emotions rage through him. He wants to scream at the world. At the heavens and those dick angels above, and at those conniving demons without and below. But he doesn't. He holds it together for Jo and Ellen.

 

Flash

 

Back in the bed with Athena. The tears are now flowing freely down Dean's face. “Aww poor baby. Tell me all about it.” She leans down and starts to lick the tears off his face.

 

“Get off me and I will.”

 

She looks at him quizzically, sees the seriousness of his eyes and actually complies. She sits next to him on the bed and rests her hand on his chest, over his heart. Better than what it was.

 

Dean takes a deep shuddering breath. “Every one of those death's is on me. I live with the guilt every day. Not a day goes by that I don't think of someone we have lost over the years. Ellen came into our lives when she called my dad's phone. She had left a message on it just prior to his death. We had never heard of her. Dad never talked about her. We should have just broken the news to her and left it at that. But we went and she and her daughter got dragged into our screwed up hunt for Yellow Eyes.”

 

“After that it was a downhill slide. Jo got into hunting, against Ellen's wishes. I feel responsible for that too. I enabled her. They wound up on our hunt for Lucifer and paid the ultimate price for their loyalty to me, Sam, and even Dad.”

 

The tears ran freely down his face and he didn't even try to stop them. “Ash was a friend of theirs and got caught up in the mayhem by association. Damn, if I don't miss that nerdy bastard. He never had a chance. Dude wasn't even a hunter!”

 

“And Layla? She would have been fine if I hadn't stumbled into her life. It seems I bring death with me wherever I go. I took the very thing she had been waiting who knows how long for. Right out from under her nose. The look her mother gave me still haunts me to this day.”

 

He had been staring straight up at the ceiling, refusing to even glance in Athena's direction. He couldn't bear the fact that she was sitting there, getting off on his misery. He turned his head to the wall away from her. “Pamela was almost the hardest of them all. The rest were all, in the end, at peace with their circumstances. Well, aside from Ash, that happened so fast he never saw it coming, but that was a blessing I guess. Pamela though?” He sighed and tugged angrily at the handcuffs. “She went out cursing our names. Even though she was helping us, she hated us for it. Because we went to her, we brought death down on her. And for what?!?! In the end the seals were opened and Lucifer escaped his cage anyway! What a fucking waste...”

 

Flash

 

He woke up sitting in the armchair by the bed, fully clothed. The magazine lay spread across his chest as if he had fallen asleep while reading it. He picked it up and the full page spread was a picture of Pamela lying on that damned bed, the blood stain clear on her abdomen. Dean let the magazine fall between his knees to the floor and he dropped his head into his hands and cried.


	6. 6

6

 

Dean's growling stomach eventually roused him from the near catatonic state he'd been sitting in for who knew how long. He spotted the water bottle lying on the floor and went to get it. “How about some food!!” When Jed didn't show, Dean refilled the bottle at the sink. He had to fill his stomach with something.

 

He started pacing around the room with images of recent events swirling through his head...

 

Lisa lying in the hospital.

 

A punch to the face from Jed.

 

The shtriga almost getting Sammy and the look of disappointment on his father's face.

 

A white-hot poker to the ribs. Dean's hand went to his side at that memory. The more the memories swirled in his head, the more he paced. The more he paced, the more pissed off and hopeless he felt. He couldn't seem to turn the images off, either.

 

His father late again and Dean forced to steal food for himself and his brother.

 

His lungs burning for air as his head is held under water.

 

Ellen.

 

Jo.

 

Layla.

 

Ash.

 

Pamela and so many more.

 

Lying on the bed, coming precariously close to getting raped by a friggin monster.

 

Dean was seething, his hands fisted at his sides. As he swung by the bed, he lashed out, snatching up the pillow and throwing it across the room. He then grabbed handfuls of the sheets and blankets and ripped them off the bed. None of that eased his anger, though.

 

He turned and the first thing he lay his eyes on was the armchair. It was heavier than it looked but Dean successfully lodged one of it's legs into the bottom panel of the door when he tossed it. He cocked a smirk at that and picked up the small table. He spun like a discus thrower, letting out a roar of anger, and hurled it across the room. It bounced off the wall next to the fake window and then smashed into pieces when it hit the floor.

 

Dean was panting with the exertion but grinned with satisfaction at the mess he had made. Glancing again at the mark the table had made on the wall, Dean realized it was actually a small hole. He walked over to it and stuck his finger through. He gave it a good tug and pulled another small piece away. Dean squinted at it in thought. In his mind he saw the hole Sam had made and the crowbar leaning against the wall next to it. He quickly turned and scanned the wreckage of the table. Seeing what he wanted, he grabbed it and turned back to the wall. The table leg tapered to a near point at one end. He eyed the tiny hole and then started jabbing the leg into the wall over and over. Once he had made swiss cheese the the wall, he turned the leg in his hands and started swinging the fatter end like a baseball bat. He eventually had a big enough hole to look through. It was your basic frame with drywall on each side.

 

He continued on his side of it. Once he got the hole big enough to squeeze through, he'd start working on the outside wall. He hit the wall with a vengeance, taking all of his anger out on it.

 

One of his swings went wide and he smacked into the frame of the wall. “Shit!” Dean dropped the table leg and shook out his hands, the pain and vibration zinging up his arms. Once the sensation calmed down, he bent to retrieve the leg only to find it snapped in half. “Well damn. Guess I'm gonna need ano--” Dean turned to find another table leg and the debris was gone. “What the...?” The floor was clear. He looked over at the bed only to find it was neatly made. The armchair was back in place, the hole it had made in the door was gone, and there was a new table. He noticed the new table was all glass. There would be no using pieces of that to bust out of here.

 

“Fine! I'll do it the hard way!” He would bloody his damn hands if he had to! He turned back to the wall with the intent of finishing the job with his bare hands, but the hole was gone. The wall was perfectly smooth. He put his hands against it and let his forehead drop to the wall, letting out a deep sigh of defeat. He couldn't win. Where the hell was Sam? He had to be out there, somewhere, figuring this shit out.

 

His anger built into a rage again. Dean needed something to hunt, or hit, or anything other than this madness! This feeling of impotence was something Dean rarely felt and it was driving him crazy! He let out another scream of rage, punched the wall, and yelled out “Fuck you, Athena! You and the horse you rode in on!” He went over to the glass table and lifted his foot to give it good stomp.

 

Flash

 

Dean was back in the room where he had gotten the hot poker. It was lit this time and it looked like a typical house basement. Poured cement floor and bare cinder block walls. Instead of being strung up by his wrists, his hands were bound in some way tightly behind his back. Whatever tied them also ran up his back and around his neck, connecting the two. If he tried to lower his arms into a more comfortable position, it pulled at his throat, choking him. If he tipped his head too far forward, it pulled up uncomfortably on his arms. It forced him to keep a ramrod straight posture. He was also gagged. He went to take a step toward the door he saw across the room and almost fell on his face. His ankles were shackled in some way to the floor, leaving him mere inches of wiggle room.

 

“I'm sorry.” Came painfully into his head.

 

“Uhhefer.” Dean mumbled around the gag. Jed came out from behind him and grabbed his shoulder with one hand and planted a punch to his gut with his other. This was followed closely by an upper cut that snapped his head back. He would have been on his ass if Jed hadn't been holding him up.

 

“You've been very naughty, Dean.” Athena came around his other side. “So much anger!” Jed punched him again in the face. Dean tried desperately to avoid the blows, but tied up the way he was, he had little in the way of movement. He could taste blood in his mouth.

 

“Uck oo.” Dean growled at her.

 

“We've been so generous, too. We gave you food, a nice room, reading material...”

 

“Enerush? Haha, unny.” Dean coughed on the blood pooling in his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but the gag prevented that. He tried to swallow it down instead. Jed punched him again in the stomach. He immediately started to double over and wrenched on his arms in doing so. He could feel the blood and drool dribbling out around the gag, running down his chin.

 

“Let's talk about Sam.” Dean shook his head no. “He's getting close, you know.” This made Dean look over toward the door. “Let's have a nice chat about him before he gets here, hmm?”

 

Dean shook his head no again.

 

“Come now. You've been so good. Aside from your outburst just now in your room.”

 

“O!” Dean's attempt at a no just added more bloody slobber to his chin.

 

“What was that?”

 

“NO!” Dean tried to articulate as best as he could around the gag. Jed grabbed his shoulder and punched him in the face again. Dean saw spots and wavered on his feet. He wanted nothing more than to be able to fight back. He didn't care anymore how 'sorry' Jed was.

 

“That sounded very much like a no, Dean.” Athena came over and pulled the gag out and let it fall down his chin. Dean immediately spit the blood out of his mouth, spraying it all over her face. Everything seemed to stop. Nobody moved. Athena and Dean had a bit of a stare down.

 

“It was a no.” Dean finally clarified for her.

 

She walked back behind him, where he couldn't see, and pushed down on his arms causing the cord to dig into his throat. “You're going to tell me every little, deep, dark, thought in your head regarding dear old Sam.” She let up on his arms and he sucked in air.

 

“Never.”

 

“You do love your brother, right?”

 

“Absolutely. Which is why I'm not telling you shit.” Dean spit some more blood out of his mouth.

 

Athena gently squeezed his right hand and he gasped in pain. “Looks like you may have done some damage to your hand, there, when you punched the wall. Sam, Dean.” She squeezed again and Dean's knees buckled and he dropped to the floor. “Mmm. I like you on your knees even better.”

 

Dean was sucking air through his teeth. The pain in his hand was like fire. He hadn't even been aware it was hurt through the rest of the beating he had been receiving. “You might as well kill me now, but I will never talk about my brother to the likes of you and let you get off in some sick, twisted way from it.”

 

Athena ran her fingers through his hair, making his skin crawl. He tried to lean away from her, but almost fell over doing so. “Are you willing to put that to the test? You really think you could go all the way to death before cracking and telling me everything I want to hear?”

 

Dean didn't satisfy her with any type of response. He just stared straight at the door willing it to burst open. Just then there was a crash from outside the room somewhere. Dean cocked an eyebrow, thinking maybe he had thought a rescue into existence.

 

“Jed.” Jed went to the door, slowly cracked it open, and then went out to investigate. Dean's eyes stayed riveted to the open door, willing Sam to appear. Athena turned back to him and pulled the gag back up and into his mouth. The sounds of a struggle filtered in from the hall.

 

Athena went out, leaving Dean to worry and wait. After a moment, Jed stumbled backwards into the room. He was glowing from the inside out. After taking a couple more steps, he fell over backward, the demon knife sticking up out of his chest.

 

Dean almost started crying with relief. Just as his hope was rising, though, Athena came in dragging Sam behind her by his foot. Dean's heart skipped a beat. She dropped Sam's foot and Dean saw him shift his hand into his coat. He quickly looked up at her and she took his questioning look for concern.

 

“Don't worry, he's not dead yet. Now, you say you would die before you tell me what I want to hear,” She stepped forward and took his chin in her hand, forcing him to look up at her. “But what if he dies instead?”

 

“O! No! Mmmmph!” Dean cried out around the damned gag. He started struggling like a man possessed. He was alternately choking himself and ripping his wrists open on the cord that bound them in his attempts to get free.

Athena went and crouched down on the far side of Sam, giving Dean a good view. She grabbed him by the hair and snapped her fingers. Sam's eyes flew open and he started choking. He grabbed at his throat as if there were something there he could rip away to allow the air to get through.

 

Dean started yelling incoherently. Tears streaming down his face.

 

“Let's talk about Sammy, m'kay?” She had the audacity to smile sweetly at him.


	7. 7

7

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't lose Sam again. He just got him back, damn it! He opened his eyes again, though, because he'd be damned if he let his brother die alone.

 

When he opened them, his forehead was on his folded arms against the wall. Ice cold water rained down on him. He stumbled back in confusion and slammed into the opposite wall of the shower. He looked around, dazed. He threw his left arm out and blindly fumbled with the knobs until he got the water turned off. “What the... Sam?”

 

Had he been in here the whole time? He slowly pushed the shower door open and scanned the room. For some reason, he had expected her to be out there. His clothes and towel were, though. As he reached for the towel, he noticed blood on his wrist. He raised his hands up in front of his face like he'd never seen them before. Both wrists were seeping blood from several lacerations and his right hand looked swollen.

 

So, he had dozed off in the shower and woke in the basement room? No. That couldn't be, because he had punched the wall after the near ...um... miss with Athena on the bed.

 

“You would like to think that didn't happen, wouldn't you?”

 

The voice was loud and clear, but in his head. He winced at the jabbing pain it caused. Suddenly, standing naked in the shower didn't seem like a good place to be and he quickly toweled off and got dressed.

 

He scanned the room again. He felt on edge, afraid Athena would pop in again. Calm down, man! You're better than this! Dean went and sat in the chair, closed his eyes, and took a few deep, steadying breaths. He had seen Sam twice now and both times he had been flashed away just moments before Sam's death. Both times it had felt incredibly real. His mind was reeling. He no longer knew up from down, left from right, awake or asleep! It was clear he just couldn't trust his own mind anymore. He decided that anything that physically happened to him had to be somewhat real. The cuts on his wrists and his swollen, throbbing hand were proof enough of that. Anything else, though? Anything else was just all in his head.

 

“Tell me about Sam.”

 

Dean brought his left hand up to his temple and grimaced. His head felt like it was going to explode. Not real. Not real. Maybe none of this was real. Even fricking Athena...

“Tell me about Sam, Dean.”

 

Dean held his head and squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth in the chair. “No!” No, no, no, no, not real, not real, not real.

“Tell me about Sam.”

 

Dean shot up out of the seat and paced back and forth. “No, damn it! I'll never talk to you about Sam! You hear me?! Never!” As he turned to pace back toward the shower, the room disappeared and he found himself outside. It was dark, snow was blowing in a howling wind, and he was still only wearing his t-shirt and jeans. He pulled his injured right hand up against his chest and held his left out in front of his face. He squinted into the snow and the wind and slowly turned in a circle. He eventually caught sight of a light in the distance. At least, he thought he did. It was the only thing he could see through the swirling snow and dark, though, and he started making his way toward it.

 

The snow was at least two feet deep, making the going slow and difficult. His teeth were chattering and he was shivering uncontrollably. He finally made it to what seemed like a small cabin. He stumbled out of the snow and tripped going up the few steps. He fell to his hands and knees and was quickly rewarded with a sharp pain shooting up from his hand. His elbow buckled and he flew forward to the floor. His head and shoulder knocked into the door pushing it open. He heaved himself up and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

 

He turned to find Sam sitting on an old ratty couch, feeding pizza crusts to a dog. “Isn't this great, Bones? On our own... no father or bossy brother telling us what to do?” Dean stands shivering in the entry, unable to take his eyes from the scene before him.

 

“Sam?”

 

Flash

 

Dean falls to his knees grabbing Sammy before he hits the ground. He clutches Sam's lifeless body to himself in a death grip, refusing to let go. “Sam?” He holds Sam's head looking at him. “Hey, look at me. It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam! Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay? You’ll be good as new. Huh? I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna take you care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam! Sam! Sammy!”

 

Flash

 

Dean is back in his room, kneeling on the floor. He looks around startled at the change and then down at his hands. Hands that so recently had held his dying brother's face. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the visions and memories from the screen of his mind. Walking over to the sink, he runs warm water. It feels good after the blizzard he had just been walking through. He looks down and his jeans are soaked from the knees down from trudging through the snow. A shiver runs down through him.

 

“Tell me about Sammy, Dean.”

 

The pain brought on by her voice in his head was getting worse. Spots danced across his vision. “No more! Just stop, already!”

 

“You're ready to talk already? This whole 'Kill me first' attitude didn't last very long.”

 

“I never said I was talking!” He yelled out to the room. “I just want you to stop asking!” He made a fist in anger and gasped at the pain. He kept forgetting about his injured hand. He turned and stalked back toward the chair to get the water bottle that sat on the floor nearby and was transported back to the snowy tundra.

 

“Shit! I'm not talking, Athena! You can stop playing these games!” His voice was stolen by the wind and the snow. Once again he huddled against the cold. It was harder this time, since his pants were already wet. The cold seemed to suck the warmth and energy from his bones. He turned until he spotted what looked like the same light as before. He started, once again, to make his way through the snow towards the cabin. He was making much slower progress this time. He fell at one point and, luckily, protected his injured hand, but got a face full of snow in the process. Either the cabin was further away this time, or he was in trouble. He kept pushing further, though, and eventually made it to the door. He raised his hand to push the door open and hesitated. He couldn't stay out in the snow. He had to go in.

 

He pushed the door open and stepped through and into a cemetery. He turned and the door was gone. He walked up over a small rise and came to a scene he thought he had buried deep in the recesses of his mind. Sam, or rather Lucifer, was beating the crap out of, well, himself. But the Dean before him refused to fight back or leave Sam's side. Eventually Sam took control and threw himself into the pit, taking Lucifer with him. Dean ran over to him. “Sam! Sam!” He tried desperately to grab his brother before he could take the plunge, but his hands just passed through him. He dropped to his knees, mirroring his former self behind him.

 

Flash

 

Dean was on his knees again in his room. He rushed over to the toilet and threw up. He could take the physical punishment. Really, at this point in his life, the physical was the only thing that made him know he was still alive. It was the only thing he felt anymore. He buried his emotions so deep that physical feelings were his only feelings. Maybe it's why he drowned himself in alcohol and looked for those one night stands. Maybe it's why he craved the fights and the hunts. All in all, he didn't mind the physical abuse. But the emotional roller coaster Athena was taking him on was torture.

 

He buried the emotions for a reason. He wasn't strong enough to deal with them and he knew it. He didn't like feeling weak. He didn't like to appear weak to others. He had grown up the big brother. It was his job to be strong for Sammy. To look out for him and protect him. He didn't have time to be weak. He certainly didn't have time to talk about his feelings with anyone.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean lifted his head and looked around. That hadn't come from inside his head.

 

“Dean! Are you in here?”

 

That was definitely Sam's voice. No, Dean. It's another of Athena's games. He's not really here! Then came another voice.

 

“Dean? Come on, boy! Answer if you're able!”

 

“Bobby?” Dean got up to his feet and looked up at the ceiling, listening. Like that would in someway help. “Bobby!”

 

“Dean? Over here, Sam!”

 

Dean went to the wall closest to him and started pounding on it. “In here! I'm in here!!” The doorknob suddenly rattled and Dean spun around to look at it in amazement.

 

“Hold on, Dean! We're coming!” Then the blessed sound of a lock getting picked came through the door to him. He went over and stood back, waiting. Eventually there was a click and the door flew open. Dean's eyes were huge with shock. Sam came rushing in, gun at the ready. He took a quick scan of the room, clearing it for potential threats.

 

Sam came back and waved a hand in front of Dean's face. “Dean? You okay, man?”

 

Bobby came over and snapped his fingers in Dean's face. “Dean? Dean? What is it?”

 

“The door.” Dean just stood staring at the door. Both Sam and Bobby turned to look.

 

“What about the door?” Sam asked confused.

 

“It wasn't a door before.”

 

Sam and Bobby shared a concerned glance behind Dean's back. Bobby put a hand on Dean's arm. “Let's go, son. Let's get you out of here.”

 

They guided him to the door where he balked and stopped. “Come on, Dean! We gotta go!” Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him through the doorway. Dean gasped as if it had been a magic trick. “What's wrong with you?”

 

Bobby looked worriedly at Dean. “Let me go and fetch the car around to the door. Can you get him that far?”

 

“Yeah, Bobby. I got him.”

 

Sam put an arm around Dean's back and helped him onward. Dean suddenly jerked away from him.

 

“No... no no! We can't go this way!” Dean looked around wildly at the warehouse aisles around them.

 

“What are you talking about? The car will be right out there. We just need to get to the door.”

 

“No! Sam, you'll die if we go that way!”

 

Sam looked with confusion at the fear that was dancing in his brother's eyes. “Okay, okay, calm down. We can find another way, okay?” Sam patted Dean's arm, trying to calm him and reassure him.

 

Dean nodded his head. “Let's go this way.” Dean started walking down another aisle that led completely the opposite way they had gone last time Sam showed up. What are you doing? This is all a dream and you know it!... No. Bobby is here. This is real!... Are you out of your mind? Just because Athena is throwing Bobby at you, that makes this real?

“Sam?” Dean came to a skidding halt.

 

Sam practically ran his brother over. “What? What is it, Dean?”

 

“Did you kill them?”

 

Sam let out a sigh. “Yes, Dean. We killed the Skoti with the blessed blade of copper dipped in a priest’s blood. And then there was a huge bald guy and we killed him too. Okay? Are you okay?”

 

Dean thought about it. They got them both so they should be okay. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna be fine. Let's get out of here.”

 

They started out again, weaving through the aisles. They came to a door and when Sam opened it, the Impala was sitting there waiting. Sam reached out and pulled open the back door and helped Dean in. Once Dean was settled he looked up at Bobby whose head was dipped down to his chest. “Bobby?” Dean leaned forward and shook his shoulder. He didn't move. Dean turned to open his door and get Sam who was putting something in the trunk.

 

“Sam? Sam!”

 

Sam came around from the back of the car and, as Dean watched, a red hole blossomed in his forehead and he dropped like a rock to the pavement. “SAMMY!” Dean launched himself from the backseat and landed in a pile of snow.


	8. 8

8

 

 

Dean's condition had worsened to dangerous levels. All his clothes were now wet and he was stumbling with the first few steps he took. He felt like he was falling more than he was walking.

 

“When are you going to talk?”

 

“Get the fuck out of my head, bitch!” Dean spun around, looking wildly for her, and fell again.

 

“Just tell me something about your brother and you can get warmed up.”

 

Dean ignored her that time and continued to make his way through the snow. By some miracle, he finally came to the cabin. He couldn't remember why he was out in the snow. Why am I out here? Was I looking for something? Sam? Dean stopped just shy of the cabin porch and turned in the snow. “Sammy!” He had to find Sam. He started to walk back out into the snow, tripped, fell, and didn't get up.

 

Dean awoke back in the bed. It was nice and warm and, even better, a woman's arms were tightly wrapped around him. “Mmm, baby. How'd you sleep?”

 

“I don't really sleep.”

 

Dean became fully aware of his surroundings and the voice that just pierced through his skull. He threw the covers off and jumped out of the bed. “What the hell, Athena! Keep your disgusting mitts off me!”

 

“Aww. Now is that any way to treat the person who just saved your pathetic, albeit exquisite, ass?”

 

Dean looked down and saw that he was naked and grabbed the top blanket off the bed and covered himself with it. “What's going on? What are you talking about?”

 

Athena raised herself up on one elbow, clearly naked as well. “Hypothermia, Dean. Quickest way to warm you up was with another warm, naked, body.”

 

“Hypo...? Sam. Where's Sam? Is he okay?” Dean eyes darted around the room.

 

“Sam was never out there. The hypothermia can play games with your mind.”

 

“Something you know all too well.” Dean spotted his clothes in a pile on the small table and went over to them. They were dry, thankfully, and he hastily got dressed. He could feel her gaze on his every move and it creeped him out.

 

“So. You almost made it to death. I'm impressed Dean. I have never had anyone go that far before.” She looked at him thoughtfully when he turned to glare at her. “Why won't you talk about Sam? He's your brother, after all? You love him, it's painfully obvious. So why is it so hard to talk about him?”

 

Dean just sat down in the armchair. He was done. No more talking to her of any kind! He was going to give her the silent treatment.

 

“Dean?”

 

He took the time to study his hand. Besides the obvious swelling, it was turning a lovely shade of purple in some spots. That couldn't be good. He needed to have it looked at by a doctor.

 

“Well. If you won't play I guess I'll find someone who will.” Dean didn't like the sound of that. Before he could even finish the thought there was a flash of light and he was lying in bed again. This time, though it was a different bed.

 

“...Heat of the moment...”

 

He sat up and looked next to him. Sam was sitting on the bed next to him and was tying up his boot.

“Rise and shine, Dean!” He did some goofy head bob to the music and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

 

Dean frowned. No. No, no, no. This isn't happening! He's me! Or he's in my spot or... What the hell? I can't do this anymore!

Dean was a passenger in his own body. No matter how much he tried to keep them from going to the diner, or anywhere else, it didn't work. He was reliving their time in Broward County except Sam was staring in his role.

As evening gathers, they go to that damned Mystery Spot where Sam is gunned down by the nervous owner. Dean cradles him in his arms. Damn you, Athena! Stop this! How many times are you going to make me watch my brother die!

The scenes just kept flashing from one death to the next. Dean was a wasted shell by the end and then the scene flashed back to that fateful night when Jake stabbed Sammy. Athena had already brought him here once before but apparently thought it deserved a repeat performance.

 

Flash

 

He was suddenly standing in an abandoned house. Before him, Sam lay on that dirty mattress, dead. The tears came easily to his eyes. Again he was just a passenger, with no control over what was happening.

 

“I screwed it up. I blew it. And for that, I'm sorry. I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. And now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too.” Dean wiped at the tears on his face. “How can I? How am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do?”

 

Flash

 

Dean was spent. He felt like a hollow shell. He was kneeling on the floor back in his room, his hands lay limp in his lap. The tears fell down his cheeks and he did nothing to stem the tide or wipe them away. He didn't think he could keep doing this. Instead of physical manipulation, Athena had resorted to the one thing that got under Dean's skin the most. Failure to save Sam. Watching him die over and over was crushing him.

 

“Dean?”

 

Sam's voice. Coming from outside the door. “Enough! Athena, you bitch! No more!”

 

“Dean? Dean hold on! I'm coming!”


	9. 9

9

 

 

Dean looked down at his hands. The physical is real. Everything else is Athena's head games. Dean's eyes strayed to his swollen, bruised hand. The physical is real. Dean grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. He let out a yell of pain.

 

“Dean!”

 

There was the sound of a body slamming into the door. Dean closed his eyes and focused on the pain. The pain was real. Another slam followed by the door crashing open. The pain was fading and Dean gave his hand another squeeze, grunting in pain.

 

He felt Sam's hands on his shoulders. “Dean, Dean. Thank God you're okay.”

 

Dean knocked his hands away. “Don't touch me!” He's not real. He's not real. Dean started rocking on his knees and occasionally squeezing his hand. He mumbled quietly to himself. “Not real. Not again. He's not real. Not real.”

 

“Dean. What's wrong? What did they do to you? Your hand looks bad.”

 

Dean felt Sam's hands on him again. He lunged to his feet and staggered back away from Sam. “Stop it, Athena! Just fucking stop!” Dean backed away from Sam until his back bumped into the wall.

 

Sam looked around the room when Dean had spoken but saw nobody there. His eyes were filled with confusion and worry. “Dean, nobody's here. Just you and me. Look,” Sam gestured to the busted open door. “Let's get out of here.”

 

“You're not here! You aren't real! I won't go anywhere with you! Every time I do, you die!”

 

“What are you talking... Look, Dean, it's me!” He came over and held out his hands to Dean, but Dean kept looking wildly about the room. He squeezes his hand and groaned again. Sam took his brother's face in his hands. “Dean, look at me! Stop! I'm right here!”

 

Dean knocked Sam's hands away again and shuffled along the wall away from him.

 

“Dean. What's going on?”

 

Dean grabbed his throbbing head in his hands and dropped to his knees. Tears had started trailing down his cheeks. What if he's real this time?... Gimme a break, man! You know it's another one of that bitch's mind games!... But if it's really him, then this could be my chance to get the hell out of here... Dean let out a frustrated shout.

 

“Dean, tell me what's wrong? Just talk to me!” Sam was getting unnerved by Dean's behavior. He took another step toward him and when Dean jerked away, he stopped. “Dean.” He pleaded quietly. “Dean, just talk to me.”

 

“You want me to talk?!” He screamed, not at Sam, but at the room in general. “Fine, you bitch! I'm a guilt-ridden, selfish asshole! Are you happy?!”

 

Sam backed away another step, unsure of what Dean would do.

 

“Sam is more than just a brother to me! He's also like a son. I was the one who helped him with his first steps! I was there when he lost his first tooth! I taught him how to ride a bike and drive a car! Hell, his first word was my name! I have raised him like my own since I was freaking four years old, damn it! Because of that, I have felt the need to protect him as my own, too, and failed miserably at it!” Dean took a deep shuddering breath and lowered his head.

 

Quieter, now, he continued. “I was a horrible parent because I was still a child myself. I smothered him. I was over protective. I wouldn't let him be himself for fear he would get hurt, physically or otherwise. I could see that he idolized me and I used that against him. When he decided to go off to college, it wrecked me. I was selfish. I didn't want to be alone. I knew, deep down, I was the weaker one of us.”

 

“After he left, I tried so hard to forget him. I found my thoughts of him distracted me on hunts so I decided a clean break was best. I never called him or contacted him and I became single minded and focused solely on whatever hunt we were on at the time. I honed myself into a deadly weapon, but something was always missing.”

 

“When dad disappeared I pulled Sam back in. I let my selfishness win out. Because of me, he'll never have his apple pie life. Shit, because of me, he's died and even took a trip to Hell. His soul lost... It's all on me.”

 

All was quiet. Sam took a tentative step toward Dean. “Dean... I...”

 

“No!” Dean got up and stalked over to the sink. “I'm done, Athena! That's all you get! Please just leave me alone!” Dean was wiped out. He had nothing left in him.

 

“Dean, whatever is going on, we'll work through it, but we need to get out of here.”

 

“You're not real! Damn it, Athena! What more do you want!?” Sam's hand came down on Dean's shoulder and Dean spun and shoved Sam back, almost knocking him on his butt. “Stay the fuck away from me!”

 

Sam set his jaw and when Dean turned back to the sink, he cracked him on the back of the head with the butt of his gun.

 

\---------------------

 

Dean lay naked on a bed as Athena crawled up between his legs and started licking and sucking. There was laughter from the side. Dean turned his head and there stood Sam, bullet hole in the head, and blood pouring down his face. He was laughing at him.

 

Dean gasped awake and sat bolt upright. He was on the couch in Bobby's den. His right hand was in a splint with a few metal pins poking out. His wrists were carefully bandaged. Movement to the right caught his eye.

 

“Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty. You finally decide you've had enough beauty rest?” Bobby had walked in from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand.

 

Dean didn't answer but looked around the room and then down at his hand.

 

“Doc says you really did a number on your hand. There are pins holding everything in place. You're going to be taking a few weeks off from hunting I'm afraid.”

 

“And at the first mention of any Terminator jokes, I will personally kick your ass.” Sam came down the stairs buttoning the last button on his shirt. “How are you feeling?”

 

Dean frowned at them. “Am I awake?”

 

Bobby raised his eyebrows. “Ya look awake to me.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“It's the Skoti.” Sam answered. “It's got you a little messed up.”

 

“The what now?”

 

“What you and I were actually hunting, and what got a hold of you, was a skoti.”

 

“Yeah they attack people through the unconscious mind.”

 

Sam hesitated. “Yeah. Umm... you were pretty messed up when I found you.”

 

"Who the fuck is Tanya??" Dean asked, glossing right over Sam's concern.

 

"Remember a year or so back, my college friend, Marissa, called?"

 

Dean frowned. "The one with the step sister or some cult thing?"

 

"Yeah. Tanya was her little step sister whose dad had gotten them messed up in some weird cult. We got Tanya out and she's living with Marissa now."

 

"So Athena, or the skoti, what the fuck ever...must have been the head of the cult. Athena really wanted her back."

 

"Enough that she really screwed with your head." Sam sounded concerned again. He exchanged a glance with Bobby. “What did she do to you, Dean?”

 

Dean looked down at his wrists and hand. “You know what? Oddly enough... I don't wanna talk about it.”

 

FIN


End file.
